


Humidity Can Be Nice

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Family Fluff, Gen, Nonbinary Roxy Lalonde, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Strilondes, dave strider listens to atlas, is it a oneshot is it going to be an entire fic who knows, just fluff, just siblings vibing, lalondes move to houston, thats it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:15:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26832796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A short drabble about Roxy and Rose's arrival in Houston. They get Whataburger and listen to Atlas and somehow its all kind of aesthetic?(I have an idea for where I want the plot to go but whether or not I actually write it remains to be seen. There's basically no plot by the way.)
Relationships: Rose Lalonde & Roxy Lalonde, Rose Lalonde & Roxy Lalonde & Dave Strider & Dirk Strider
Kudos: 3





	Humidity Can Be Nice

**Author's Note:**

> Technically, this is my first fic. Not sure how to feel about that tbh...  
> Anyway, I hope to actually write more of this because I have some great lil plot nuggets I want to write. Can you tell I'm a kinnie?  
> *Anyway* if yall see any mistakes I missed in my once-over before I published this please lmk I'm so prone to typos it's not even funny. And if you have any tips for how to improve my writing I will love you forever :)
> 
> Fun fact: while I wrote this, Can I Call You Tonight by Dayglow bounced around my head like a chill vaporwave screensaver. It was a vibe.

It was raining when Roxy and Rose stepped out of the luggage pickup terminal at IAH. The air was heavy, dense with rain and ozone and gasoline and rubber soles and everything a city as big as Houston should smell like and more. It wasn’t a nice smell by any means, but it was comforting. It reminded Roxy of their brothers. Or cousins. Whatever the Strilondes were to each other. 

Roxy adjusted the straps of their backpack, twirled at their hair, pushed their glasses further up onto their nose. 

“Ro-ose~” They prompted, “the bus?”

“Just a minute,” Rose muttered, scrolling furiously on her phone. Her hair curled tighter than before, held back by its usual headband, though her bangs, as usual, were allowed to spring free, provided they behaved. Rose’s face was barely made-up, save for her thick eyeliner. Even if the rest of her face was bare as it was now, there was nothing, not even the end of the world, that could prevent Rose from drawing on her eyeliner.

Roxy sighed, nerves a little more on edge. Any relaxation the muggy air provided sunk subtly away in the tension that bubbled up again. Roxy really disliked these aspects of traveling. 

Roxy’s head snapped to Rose at a quiet huff from their twin. She was smiling softly, triumphantly. Roxy poked her. 

“Right,” Rose nodded, “it should be a Metro, arriving at island B3.”

Bouncing on their toes, Roxy dragged both Lalonde suitcases toward the thick concrete pillar labeled B3. Not a minute later the bus arrived, squealing brakes causing Rose to flinch back, eyes squinched shut. 

The bus was cool, air conditioning shuddering as it did its damnedest to churn out air cold enough to slice through the humidity and heat. A vaguely-familiar pop song played quietly, almost too quiet to hear, and Roxy sank into the bus seat on the back row, head tipped back and arms crossed over their chest. Kicking their legs out in front of them they leaned into their sister’s soft sweater as she stared passively out the window, lost in thought. Before they could think better of it, Roxy was asleep. 

They awoke with a neckache, a dry mouth, and a punch to the shoulder. Rose crossed her arms, staring down at her sibling. Roxy imagined she was relishing the novel chance to be taller than them. They stood up quickly. Too quickly. Flailing an arm out to steady themself on the bus’ rail, they waited impatiently for the black spots to fade from their vision and made a mental note to ask Dave to stop by whatever that Texas fast-food chain was called. It was “simply the shit,” apparently. 

Roxy blinked a few times when they had their balance back, only to find that Rose was halfway out of the bus with both of their bags. Roxy grabbed their backpack and hastily tripped out of the bus, fishing their phone out of their voluminous sweatshirt pocket.

Dirk picked up on the third ring. 

“What,” Roxy chuckled, “your jeans too skinny to take your phone out of your pocket?”

In the background, Roxy picked up on Dave’s quiet snicker, signaling that (a) Dirk had put them on speakerphone, and (b) that was in fact the reason Dirk didn’t pick up immediately.

Snorting, Roxy got to the point. “We’re in the parking lot now! And Davey?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we stop by that Texas chain you were ranting about?”

“Fuck yeah.”

. . .

Whataburger was really fucking good. Rose had thought it was called Water Burger and expressed her relief that the chain was both good and sensibly-named.

Dirk shook his head. “If you ask me, Water Burger is a better name.”

“Explain,” Rode demanded, quirking a brow over her burger. 

Dirk turned around to look critically at her. He shrugged. “It stimulates conversation. What possessed the founder to name their company something so outlandish? Was it an inside joke? Is it even supposed to make any modicum of sense? What is a water burger?”

“The world’s most soggy burger,” Dave interjected.

“The only invention that could possibly convince me to drink four cups of water per day,” Roxy added.

“You’re supposed to drink at least eight, actually,” said Rose, crunching up the paper bag that once held her burger.

“Nobody drinks that much water.” Dave sounded incredulous. Roxy nodded fervently.

“One would think,” said Rose. “I believe Jade and Jake are the only people I know that can drink eight cups of water daily.”

“Holy hell,” Roxy snorted, “what are they, succulents?”

“Basically.”

. . .

The rest of the forty-minute drive was peaceful, soporific, and just what Roxy had been craving without knowing it. Atlas played over the quiet speakers as the ten-year-old Corolla buzzed softly down the freeway and street lights swished hypnotizingly past. The windshield wipers counted off the beat for Atlas, who whispered on about their fucked-up sleeping habits.

This time it was Rose who fell asleep on Roxy, huffing gently with every slow breath she took. Dirk glanced back and softly smiled at the two in the back seat. Roxy waggled their brows but grinned genuinely back at their brother.

“We can unpack tomorrow,” Dirk suggested quietly, as if afraid to disturb the gentle ambiance in the car.

“Sounds like a plan, bro,” Roxy smiled, knowing full well what Dirk meant to say was _I’m glad you’re here._

. . .

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah it was cheesy. Yeah it had no plot. And what of it?? :P


End file.
